


khaki meets hawaiian grunge

by justcosmics



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Cute Eddie Kaspbrak, First Meetings, M/M, fuck i hate tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcosmics/pseuds/justcosmics
Summary: "You missed your line," Said the boy with the dark curls and the pale face."My line?""You would have said, ‘I'm not supposed to talk to strangers’. And I would have said that my name is Richie Tozier, so now you know my name and I'm not a stranger. Trust me, I've seen it in a fucking Hallmark movie."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	khaki meets hawaiian grunge

He met him outside of a bar.

It had been pouring down rain the entire day, but at close to one in the morning the rain seemed to calm down and the skies had cleared up to an extent. He had been standing in the rain since he had arrived at The Pink Sock (yes, what a flattering name), and his back was beginning to ache from leaning against the side of the building, looking out at flickering street lights and cars whizzing by him.

It was a sort of routine for him. To catch the ten o'clock train a short distance from his house in Derry and take the twenty-minute ride to The Pink Sock, a gay bar located in Augusta, Maine.

Of course, he'd never gone in. He was clearly underage by the looks of him. He was short for his age, had always been, and even though he thought his perfectly cut hair made him seem older, he still had some baby fat in his face and stomach. And for God's sake, he was wearing the fucking khaki's his mom had picked out for him that morning.

"You look really fucking bored," was the first thing that came out when he met him. He wore black curls on his head and chunky glasses over his eyes that didn't fit his face, and was annoyingly way too tall to be legal in Eddie's eyes.

He stood in front of him like he owned the entire block, maybe even all of Augusta, Maine. It annoyed the fuck out of Eddie. Maybe that was his first impression of him. That he annoyed the fuck out of him. But his next expression was how his dark brown, almost black eyes, resembled the ocean. The left one, Pacific, and the right one, Atlantic. Maybe the color changing lights from the Pink Sock entrance had that effect on his eyes, and his eyes were just the color of dark brown, and that was that, not two oceans that Eddie had yet to see.

"What's it to you?" Eddie scuffed in return, adjusting his position against the side of the building, trying to get a better look at the streets and the cars that were covered by the stranger that was currently chuckling at him. The audacity.

"Wanna smoke?" The stranger asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and leaning against the building, mirroring Eddie's position next to him.

"I got asthma. Or something," Eddie shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. The boy with the dark curls shrugged as well and placed a cigarette in between his lips, lighting it and letting it sit on his bottom lip as he sucked in air. Eddie watched as he exhaled. As he physically relaxed from the drag.

"I got a tattoo of a fucking polar bear today," the stranger said next. No, Eddie was definitely not expecting that and definitely did not laugh at him. "I forgot what I asked for when I walked in, but I looked on the wall and saw this sick ass polar bear tattoo staring at me, so I asked for that."

"I'm sure it looks terrible." Eddie chuckled— wanted to chuckle. It came more as a giggle, like the little fucking boy he was. "Can I see it?"

Richie pulled on his sleeve, showing Eddie a bandage, carefully pulling it off. The shorter boy tried his best not to gag from the reddened and puffing skin underneath. He looked at the outline of a polar bear head underneath the bandage. "That looks terrible."

"You missed your line," Said the boy with the dark curls and the pale face.

"My line?"

"You would have said, ‘I'm not supposed to talk to strangers’. And I would have said that my name is Richie Tozier, so now you know my name and I'm not a stranger. Trust me, I've seen it in a fucking Hallmark movie."

"Well, Richie Tozier, I'd like to say I trust Hallmark's judgment on this one, but you are definitely still a stranger and I definitely should not be talking to you right now."

Richie dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped in with the ball of his foot, before he lifted himself off the wall and stood in front of Eddie, blocking the shorter boy's view of the streets and the whizzing cars once again.

"I'm Eddie Kaspbrak. And I'm not bored. I'm just eighteen, so I can't get in the bar."

Richie laughed for the second time that night, even though Eddie hadn't thought he had made a joke, so he furrowed his eyebrows at him. Richie didn't seem to notice his questionable look from the dark corner in the city, where the only light came from flickering street lamps and The Pink Sock rainbow LED's that were set up in the entrance.

"I can't either. That's why fake ID's were invented. So, what's an eighteen-year-old, faggot momma's boy doing our here all alone past his bedtime?"

For his foul language and use of the f-slur, his tone stayed considerably light.

"Momma's boy?"

"You're wearing fucking khaki's, man. You're asking for that one," Richie snorted.

Eddie took in Richie Tozier's outfit, a pair of skintight black jeans with too many holes in them, a white tank top with a green Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over it, with black converse for shoes.

"Have you figured me out yet?" Richie chuckled, obviously not minding as Eddie looked him up and down.

"You look like a grungy stoner that just came back from vacationing in Hawaii. With major daddy issues. I should know, childhood trauma makes the funniest people."

"I get that a lot."

"Do you?" Eddie snorted rhetorically.

Eddie placed his hands in his pockets of the khaki's, looking down at his own shoes, a perfectly clean pair of white Nike's. His mother had cleaned them the day before.

"Wanna go back to my place?" Eddie heard Richie ask confidently, running his fingers through his dark curls and adjusting his gigantic glasses on his face.

"You're asking me to hook up?" He asked too innocently for the grown-up adult that he was supposed to be when he turned eighteen last September.

"Well?"

"No, are you kidding? I didn't fucking ask for this! You are so disgusting, do you, grungy, Hawaiian piece of trash really think I'd let you sick your microscopic penis in my ass?" Eddie yells in disgust too loudly, his voice echoing in the city and people passing by giving him questioning looks.

The shorter boy crossed his arms over his chest again, even though he felt immediate guilt for yelling. Here he thought this boy was trying to be friendly, but all he wanted was to be a one-night stand.

"Shit, man. No need to bring my dick size into this."

"I'm sorry. It's been a long day," Eddie huffed out, but Richie didn't seem to need his apology, considering he wore a nasty looking smirk on his face instead of a pout like Eddie had assumed.

"For the record, I'd be honored to send my microscopic penis up your ass." Richie snickered, and Eddie laughed the most genuine laugh he had laughed in weeks.

"You hungry? There's a 24-hour diner down the block. Plus, we could definitely get a discount since I went down on the manager last Tuesday."

Eddie scoffed. "I'm okay. I ate on the train ride here."

"From where?"

"You're totally a stalker," the shorter boy said as he squinted his eyes at him, and crossed his arms over his chest once again, trying to seem tougher than he looked. "Do you always blow managers to get free food?"

"Sometimes. But Brian and the hot food were not related. Just a little bonus."

"I see."

"You homeless or somethin'? It's one in the morning and you don't look like you got a place to go," Richie said, and Eddie could have sworn he could see the concern in his eyes, but he ignored it.

"Something like that."

"Then why don't you come with me to my apartment and let you crash for the night? No stickin' my dick anywhere, I promise, Momma's Boy."

Eddie thought of the last time he didn't come home and how his mother found his room empty in the morning and immediately called the police, telling them her precious son had been kidnapped.

Richie picked up a guitar case leaned against the side of the building next to Eddie, which the shorter boy hadn't seemed to notice before then.

"Yeah, okay. I'm too tired to ask if you're a serial killer." Eddie found himself saying, even though they both knew that was a lie. If Eddie didn't find Richie the slightest bit attractive, he most likely would've left the conversation before it even started. "But if your apartment is gross and has likes leaks and bugs, I'm leaving," Eddie added.

Richie nodded, leading them up the block.

"You're a neat freak?"

"Sorta. My mom is."

"Okay, I'll be considerate and clean myself really well before I fuck her," Richie snorted, adjusting the instrument case in his hand. Eddie rolled his eyes, not even wanting to acknowledge that.

"Here it is."

Richie turned up the block to an apartment complex that circled the street, and he opened a gate with a silver key that was stored in his pocket, before beginning to walk up some rundown, black stairs that Eddie thought were going to break within seconds. He took careful steps up each individual stair and decided to ignore how Richie raised his eyebrows at his carefulness.

"Beware, my flatmate might or might not be pounding into his boyfriend right now." Richie joked, and it was Eddie's turn to raise his eyebrows at him. Richie grabbed a second key from his pocket and opened his apartment door, listening for his flatmate's voice. Or moans.

"Nah, we're good. I guess it's like two in the fucking morning anyway, I don't know why he would be up," Richie laughed to himself, tossing his guitar case, Eddie thought it was a guitar before he opened the fridge and took out a beer, opening it with his teeth and sipping in all within like five seconds. Eddie had never seen someone move that fast to open and beer. Hell, his mother took thirty minutes to walk down the damn stairs.

"Wanna beer?" Richie asked, leaning over the kitchen counter in his small kitchen area, and Eddie blinked slowly, just now realizing he was creepily staring (now who's the creepy serial killer).

"No, I'm good." He coughed out, looking around the apartment. It was dirty as shit (like stains on the wall and dust gathered on shelves kinda dirty), but it wasn't as messy as he imagined.

Richie must have noticed him looking around.

"This dump's cheap as fuck and keeps a roof under our heads. Pretty good deal, huh?"

"You play guitar?" Eddie asked, examining the closed instrumental case that laid on Richie's green couch. Eddie would not be sitting on his couch anytime soon, the color reminded him of grass stains and pestering mothers.

"That's a bass. I can play guitar though." Richie replied, setting down his beer and moving over to Eddie so he hovered over him.

"I don't even know the difference," Eddie huffed out before he let out a yawn and covered his hand over his mouth to stop it.

Eddie noticed something shiny near Richie's ear and without thinking, reached up to the taller boy to examine it.

"I'm guessin' you think my earrings are shit." Richie snorted, slowly taking his right earring off and placing it in his palm for Eddie to see. A silver cross.

"I've always wanted them."

"Really, Momma's Boy?"

Eddie ignored his remark and took the earring in his hand. "Yeah. My mom would kill me though. But I always thought they looked pretty. This girl, Greta, that I graduated with, she used to wear these pretty flower earrings that looked like diamonds. I always thought she was a bitch 'cause she called me a girly boy all the time, but she gave me a pair of flower earrings on the last day of school. Turns out she was just a closeted lesbian. I felt bad for her."

Eddie remembered the day well. He had thought Greta was pulling him aside after his last period of the day to ridicule him, but in reality, she had told him her biggest secret.

That was the last time he had seen her, but there were rumors she had moved to California. Eddie sometimes wished she had brought him with her.

"So why don't you wear the earrings?" Richie asked, bringing him back to reality. Eddie looked up from the silver cross earring in his hand and placed it back in the taller boy's palm. When he locked eye contact with Richie, he noticed how intently the boy with the dark curls was staring down at him.

"I should go to bed," Eddie said instead of answering, not wanting to give Richie the satisfaction of being completely right about him being a momma's boy.

"I'll take the couch." Richie coughed, breaking their eye contact and pointing towards a door. "My room's the door on the right. Take the left door and you'll definitely see two fags spooning on Uris' bed."

Eddie didn't feel like arguing that the f-slur was very hurtful, or that Richie didn't have to take the couch, so he just nodded and turned towards the right door that was located by the small living room they were standing in the middle of.

"Thanks," Eddie said and cursed himself for not saying it sooner. His mother would be disappointed. "For not being a psychopath and killing me on the streets, obviously."

"'Could always kill ya now," Richie scoffed in return, setting himself down on the rundown, greenish-yellowish couch.

"Eddie?" Richie called out, just as Eddie was opening Richie's bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

He sounded tired out loud and noticed how Richie physically softened from hearing his weak response.

"I've got a gig or somethin'. Thursday at ten, at The Pink Sock. You should come. If you wanna. I'll let you through the back, so you don't have to worry about bouncers and shit." Richie picked his beer back up from the counter as he spoke, swirling it around in his hand, covered in rings that Eddie hadn't really noticed before.

"Maybe." No. "Goodnight, Richie."

He didn't wait for a response as he stepped on the bed in view, not bothering to use the covers because he was sure as hell was not going to get extra germs on him.

He laid on his side and stared out the window to see a view of a wall of bricks from the apartment building next to Richie's, and wished he could see the ocean. He wondered how Greta was doing in California if she was in California. He wondered if she got to lay on her bed every night and see the ocean. Eddie was happy that she got out of Derry, but God, he wished that she had cared about him enough to shove the earrings in his ears for him and ship him off across the country with him.

It felt like as soon as he shut his eyes to gain a little bit of sleep, his alarm for the morning blared through his watch, shocking his wrist a bit as he turned it off as fast as possible. 8:00 am, it read.

If he had dreamed of Richie the night before, he didn’t remember it.

There's light from the sunrise coming in through one of the windows, but it's hard to tell considering the only view are those damned bricks, and Eddie sits up in a stranger's bed and feels so trapped.

He feels his chest hitting his heart over and over again and tries not to breathe out too hard, because he's not going to have an anxiety attack in a stranger's bed, in a stranger's house, for the love of God.

Eddie shakily takes out an orange pill bottle from his left pocket and gulps down two pills without hesitation. His stress medication, as his mother had put it, but Eddie had figured out after over a decade of taking them it was called Fluoxetine.

He let out a large breath finally after putting the pill bottle back and lays down again, staring at the ceiling. There's a Beetles poster staring back at him that he hadn't seen before.

It was pasted onto the unfamiliar ceiling, slightly crooked. He stared at it for a whole minute before he fought the urge to fall back asleep in the comfortable bed he laid in, and he sat up, turning off the second alarm on his watch. 8:02 am.

The room he sat in was smaller than it had seemed the night before, but Eddie hadn't really looked around much before he fell asleep. It was the size of his mother's walkthrough closet, with the bed against the wall and records hanging from the walls. It was messy with clothes hanging from windows and doors, surrounding the floors as well, but it seemed to fit Richie's personality fairly well.

Eddie couldn't help himself, he picked up Richie's clothes and some of his things on the ground, including his dirty socks (yuck!), and cleaned his room for him. He wasn't Richie's maid, it just made him feel more in control.

He made his way into the main area of the rundown apartment building only five minutes later. He saw Richie, the stranger he met only seven hours ago, out like a light on the couch. His left arm was laying above his head and his right was against his chest, and Eddie almost could have thought he looked adorable with his mouth open a bit as he slept.

"He'll be out cold for at least another three hours, don't bother waking him," Eddie heard from the kitchen area and turned abruptly to meet the eyes of a Jewish boy apparently, considering the brimless cap that sat on top of his brown curls. He was lanky like Richie, but not a bigger build to him Eddie noticed as he flipped burnt eggs on a pan.

"Didn't mean to startle you, little guy. Want breakfast?" The Jewish boy was Richie's flatmate, Eddie assumed.

Eddie held in a yawn and awkwardly made his way over to the kitchen area, sitting down at the seat behind the counter. "Sure, thanks. I'm Eddie, by the way. Are you Uris?" He asked, remembering Richie say his name the night before. He also wondered where his so-called boyfriend was.

A new voice echoed in the room. "His name is Stan Uris." The boy said, standing next to Stan and the burnt eggs in the pan that Stan had now placed on the counter, planting a kiss on Stanley's cheek. "And I'm the boyfriend. Hi, I'm Bill."

Bill had reddish-brownish hair and pale skin, and was a couple of inches shorter than Stan, but still definitely towered over Eddie. He had a kind and gentle look to his face, and he could tell that Bill was overall an easy person to talk to just by looking at him.

Before Eddie could reply, Bill turned around and grabbed a few plates to cut up the very badly burnt eggs, handing a plate to Eddie.

"Sorry about Stan's cooking, he's real shitty at it." Bill snickered, and Stan rolled his eyes and gave him a look that resembled a wounded animal. "Sorry, handsome, I know you tried," Bill laughed at him and kissed him once again, this time on the lips.

"For you, baby," Stan replied, taking a bite from his breakfast and cringing at the taste.

They acted like a married couple, which made Eddie oddly jealous of them. He'd never thought of getting to act like a married couple before.

The two lovebirds seemed to be in their own world as Eddie pulled out two pill bottles, the labels scratched off by his mother, but several years ago he was able to make old labels as Dextromethorphan and Guaifenesin. Quite the fucking mouthful.

Stan and Bill were easy enough to talk to. Eddie had done a lot of easy small talk throughout middle school, even though he had grown tired of pretending to talk to people who really didn't give a living shit either by sophomore year of high school.

They told him about how Stan and Richie had started renting the apartment last year, and how it was a dump but it was all they could afford at the time. Stan told him that Bill didn't live with them, but lived with his parents, even though Eddie could tell Stan wanted Bill to live with him by his facial expression. Eddie asked Bill if he had siblings he lived with too, and Stan gave Bill a long look of sympathy, so Eddie quickly changed the subject and tried not be make anything awkward.

"I should go, it was nice meeting you two," Eddie said a couple of minutes later, taking his plate to the sink and placing it gently on the stack of dirty dishes sitting in the sink. He had eaten a few bites and tried to get around the weird green and black parts of the egg, but the mission was unsuccessful. Bill was right, his boyfriend was shit at cooking.

"Damn, it's so early still. Richie really takes one-night stands to the next level." Stan huffed out, placing an arm around Bill's shoulder.

"Let's be honest, most of them don't even stay the night," Bill chuckled.

Eddie's face grew a dark shade of red as he grabbed his phone off the counter. "I'm not a hookup. He just let me stay the night, that's it. He even took the couch." Eddie emphasized, pointing at where Richie slept.

"Oh, sorry to assume. It's just that Richie's kind of a manwhore." Stan snorted, and Bill rolled his eyes at him.

"Ignore him, Richie is not a manwhore, he's just... enjoying life at it's fullest," Bill added shyly.

"Uh, good to know." He really didn't need to know about Richie's sex life. "It was nice meeting you two. Thanks for letting me stay the night."

Eddie took the train back to Derry with the taste of overcooked eggs in his mouth and an overjoyed feeling in his chest. He couldn't even understand why.

**Author's Note:**

> not sure if i’m gonna do more to this. leave a comment if you want :)


End file.
